


Old Habits

by howlikeagod



Series: domestic juno/peter [1]
Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: M/M, Tumblr Prompt, i'm posting this literally one minute before i have to leave, what can i say i love these kids and i was on a roll
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 15:58:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10925178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howlikeagod/pseuds/howlikeagod
Summary: Peter botches a theft and makes a friend.





	Old Habits

**Author's Note:**

> this was prompted (sort of) by @warren-kepler on tumblr
> 
> thanks!!

Peter Nureyev is a gentleman thief, and a gentleman thief rarely steals anything that doesn’t pose a challenge worthy of his talents. He grew out of the need for pickpocketing a lifetime and half a galaxy ago, after all. He has his eyes on better prizes these days.

But old habits are hard to break.

He barely thinks about it when he does it, just lets his quick fingers dip into a candy dish or a half-open drawer or a purse and then deposit whatever it was they happened upon into his own pockets. 

There is so much ephemera in them already--Juno still hasn’t let him forget about the time he tried to throw one of Peter’s jackets into the wash with his own clothes and ended up staining half his wardrobe with purple Venusian eyebrow dye. A few paperclips or a pair of diamond earrings barely take up enough space to acknowledge. For God’s sake, he put an entire cantaloupe down there on a trip to the supermarket last week and forgot about it until Juno had him pinned to the couch that night and it ended up getting  _ quite  _ in the way.

So it really isn’t Peter’s fault, you see, that the man he passes on the street wears his watch so loosely and lets his wallet hang half out of his pants pocket.

“Oh, excuse me,” he says. He bumps their shoulders together in a way that  _ looks  _ accidental, aiming for a well-feigned stumble that will put one hand in perfect position to get in and out without a fuss.

That’s the plan, anyway, until the man trips over his own feet and sends Peter sprawling on the sidewalk.

“Woah, buddy, are you alright?” A pair of dark eyes peer down at him from a face that would probably be handsome if its owner could figure out how to shave symmetrically. A broad hand reaches down to help him up.

“Yes, thank you,” Peter says as he stands. 

The man--who, he is somewhat irritated to note, is actually taller than him by at least an inch. Peter should invest in some new heels--laughs a deep, hearty laugh at himself.

“Sorry, I’ve got two left thumbs.” He grins brightly. Peter blinks, unsure if that’s meant to be a joke. “Hey, you’re dressed up fancy. Going to a party or something?”

Peter opens his mouth and closes it, not sure if he’s being propositioned or mugged. Neither would work out well for this other man, but the responses do differ depending.

“No, just heading home,” Peter replies slowly. It’s not a complete lie, though calling Juno’s apartment ‘home’ always leaves a strange, warm feeling in him.

The man nods.

“Me too, but I gotta get all the way across town and who  _ knows  _ which busses will be running--the schedule doesn’t line up with my calendar, and hey, wouldn’t it be great if you could just, hire someone to drive you places? I should get on that, this is a great idea--”

The man’s comms rings abruptly, cutting him off. Peter stows away the tranquilizer he had been slowly edging out of his sleeve and starts to make his getaway.

He freezes, though, when he hears a very familiar voice coming from the other end of that call.

“Mercury, you left your goddamn keys in my apartment again and like hell am I driving out to Oldtown in the middle of the night to unlock your door--”

“Jay, buddy, I’ve got my keys right here.” He reaches into his pocket, the one not threatening to drop his battered wallet any moment, and his face falls into an expression of realization. “Uh, sounds great, I’ll be right over.”

Ah. Mick Mercury.

Peter has heard a lot about him, of course. He can see immediately that most of what he had assumed was exaggeration on Juno’s part is, in actuality, pretty spot on. But he can also see what had confused him before, the kinds of things Juno didn’t admit until he was three drinks in and not bothering to hide his sentimentality anymore--sheer earnestness. A desire to do something good, though not necessarily great.

When people grow up together, things like that rub off on each other until nobody can remember who it came from in the first place. Peter’s surprised he didn’t see it sooner, frankly, but Juno does so love to hide the shiniest bits of himself.

“Something important come up?” Peter asks nonchalantly.

“Nah, just gotta run back over to my buddy’s place.” He shrugs good-naturedly. Peter wonders if Mick Mercury ever does anything any other way. “We look out for each other.”

The comment throws Peter so much he can’t help the smile that crosses his face. 

“As it turns out, I believe I’m heading in the same direction. Care for some company?”

“Sure!” Mick gives another toothy grin. “What’s your name, stranger?”

“Peter,” he replies. It’s a common enough first name, and Juno can’t get himself to remember an alias to save his life. It makes Nureyev itchy, hearing it out loud in reference to himself, sometimes, but that’s another thing to put away in the boxes tucked inside his head--boxes that have, miraculously, gotten smaller in recent months. Having someone to share things with really does work wonders, who knew.

“That’s funny,” Mick says. “That’s the name of my friend’s new fella.” 

Peter hums noncommittally. 

“Small planet.”

“Ha, yeah.” They walk in silence for a minute, until something in the street catches Mick’s eye. “So, you know, I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but I just can’t look at a manhole cover the same way again since I found out what  _ really  _ lives in those sewers…”

 

-

 

Juno’s eye practically bulges out when he opens the door, expecting Mick and getting Mick  _ and  _ Peter laughing like old chums.

He throws Mick’s keys at him and glares down Peter’s intended offer to bring Mick in for another glass of something like he saw it written on his face. 

The door swings shut, and Juno leans his forehead against it.

Peter sneaks up behind him, presses a kiss to his neck.

“Why,” Juno says. For all that he accuses Peter of being a drama queen, he’s not guiltless of that himself. “Of all the people you could have bumped into…”

“I’m glad it was him,” Peter says emphatically. Juno turns to look at him over his shoulder, raises an eyebrow.

“Did he try to sell you something?” Juno asks, dry as the dust blowing in the open window.

“It’s just nice to know you’re in good hands when I’m away,” Peter teases. Juno growls.

“I’ll show you good hands,” he mumbles, which doesn’t even make sense--but then again maybe it does, if Peter plays his cards right.

It’s true, is the thing; Juno is in good hands--not deft, not competent, but  _ good-- _ when Peter is away. That knowledge sits with him on lonely days, hurtling through space and wanting terribly to just be  _ somewhere.  _

_ Good, _ he thinks again. Good.


End file.
